


Hesitation

by orderandsophism



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, This Is STUPID, past ereri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-12
Updated: 2014-02-12
Packaged: 2018-01-12 01:56:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1180553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orderandsophism/pseuds/orderandsophism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erwin waits too long to ask Levi out on a date, ereri ensues. Kinda. Maybe. Never.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hesitation

“I’m going on a date with Eren,” Levi announces, and Erwin chokes spectacularly on his cereal.

It’s been two long years filled with awkward sexual tension during which the circumspect Erwin has spent unsuccessfully screwing up the courage to ask out his roommate. It has somehow never occurred to him that the opportunity would someday be wasted, or that Levi might find someone else in the interim, so when Levi mentions going on a date, he is somewhat fairly devastated.

“Oh,” he says blankly, as Levi retrieves a cup of yogurt from the fridge. “Eren? That part time new hire you just took on?”

“Mm,” Levi murmurs in response. “He’s probably the only guy I’ve met in the last year that looks even remotely like dating material.” Erwin is wounded, wondering diffidently what it is that might have led Levi to overlook him as a potential date, but Levi only swallows another spoonful yogurt, oblivious to Erwin’s inner turmoil. “So what do you think?”

“Of what?” Erwin asks stupidly. “Of Eren?”

“No, Apartheid. Yes, Eren.”

“Kinda hard to say,” Erwin says, his words muffled by a mouthful of half-chewed corn flakes. “He’s not really my type.”

“What is your type?” Levi asks, and in his brusque way it sounds more like an accusation.

Erwin swallows hard, and looks up with agitation. “Um … I don’t … I don’t really have one?”

“Really?” Levi asks doubtfully. “I figured tall, statuesque, Apollonic, Type A personality would be what you were into.” He chews for a moment. “Someone like you, I guess.”

Erwin looks at Levi, his small frame poured into tight, dark jeans, wearing a nearly-threadbare Queen shirt worn especially thin at the collar, scuffed black leather midhigh boots, his look finished off with cracked leather cuffs around his pale wrists. “Nah,” Erwin replies, looking down to study his bowl of cereal with an acuity that is quite obviously affected. He waits a moment until he’s sure Levi’s not looking him over. “What about you?” he asks, attempting to sound casual. “What’s your type?”

Levi frowns and looks at him for a lingering moment before cutting his eyes away and setting his dirty spoon in the sink. “I don’t have one, either,” he mutters before snatching up his leather jacket from the back of the dining chair and flouncing out the door. “Take care of the dishes for me?”

“I always do,” Erwin says, and he’s left alone to his thoughts and the dirty dishes. 

Later that night, Erwin comes back to the apartment after the world’s longest business meeting and more than a couple of celebratory beers with coworkers. He fumbles with his keys far longer than he needs to in his inebriate haze, and when he finally makes it inside, he is surprised to see Levi and Eren laughing as they emerge from Levi’s bedroom.

“Oh, hey,” Levi greets Erwin with a smile. “I didn’t think you were even coming home tonight, it’s so late. Where’ve you been?”

“Out,” is Erwin’s explanation, and he’s frowning. “We finally managed to broker a deal with that firm that’s been giving us trouble, so we went out to celebrate.”

“Nice,” Levi says, and it’s obvious that he’s more interested in the brunet with the startling eyes who’s slipping his hand in his and tugging at his sleeve like a child. “Well, we’re gonna get out of here. Erd’s band is playing a set at that bar downtown, and I promised I’d help him set up his recording equipment.” He pulls on his leather motorcycle jacket. “Did you want to come? I think Hanji said she’d be stopping by.”

Erwin feels that sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, imagining himself standing around like the extraneous third wheel, downing shitty, over-priced bourbons waiting for the set to start while simultaneously trying to ignore the two of them sucking face next to him. “No, I think I’m just going to go to bed,” Erwin mumbles as he staggers towards his room.

“Ok,” Levi says, shrugging. “Well, don’t wait up.”

Erwin all of a sudden feels like he wants to vomit.

He collapses in utter defeat on his bed, feeling a scraping sort of displaced mortification in his gut. He hears the front door shut, and everything is silent but for the erratic beating of his heart, exacerbated by anxiety and the beer coursing through his system.

“‘Don’t wait up …’” he repeats, throwing his arm over his face, though it is a palty aegis for his discomfort. Erwin manages to roll out of bed and make it to the kitchen, where he promptly and somewhat savagely ripped open a bag of Doritos, Chex Mix and chocolate malted milk balls and caramel chocolates into a giant serving bowl and stomps back to bed.

Half an hour later, the large screen TV in his room is playing two separate basket ball games while Erwin scrolls through a tab after tab of cat memes, classic rock blaring on the surround sound, competing with the sounds of the game and Erwin’s attentions. He scoops handfuls of the nauseating, half-melted and more-than-stale conglomeration into his mouth as his foot taps nervously in time to the music. He washes the food down with his third beer of the night, and it’s as bitter as the frown on his face.

At midnight, Erwin is passed out on his bed, clutching the nearly-depleted bowl of snacks, successfully distracted from his romantic preoccupations. He wakes when he feels the mattress shift from an unfamiliar weight, and it’s Levi, smelling of beer and cigarette smoke and leather and clandestine kisses, and Erwin rubs his eyes in disbelief.

“What are you doing home?” he asks, frowning.

"Eren can’t get hard,” Levi says simply, before reaching over and turning off the lamplight.

And then Levi rides him like the fucking Pony Express and they get married the next spring at the Palace of Fine Arts Theater, and Eren cries big baby bitch tears into a bowl of meat at the reception.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry for this. Not really.


End file.
